SUSANNA

28| NEWS OF THE DAY

The newsreader spoke as he climbed on top of his box. 'Come near. Come here, come near, good people of the Colony. I have news for all to hear.'

The Colonist that usually hanged around the little cobbled area in the public square waiting for his arrival moved closer to fill the few spaces below the box while those on the fringes picked up pace, anxious not to miss the late-afternoon broadcast. When the tall man with the oversized glasses, extended beard, cloak, breeches and upturned boots was satisfied that there were enough people around him, he began speaking in a slow, dramatic manner.

He cut a niche for himself as the newsreader of the Colony's state of affairs. His audience tolerated his mannerisms which vacillated from quirky, intriguing and hilarious to deep, sarcastic and sad. They have come to accept, love, hate, tolerate and even accept his unique rendition of the daily news. The words rolled off his tongue, while his hands and facial expressions, synchronised with every sentence, phrase and change in tone complemented compelled his audience to turn up twice a day, rain or shine.

'It is with great excitement that I bring you the latest happenings in the Colony, today.'

Some in the audience exhibited visible annoyance with his long-winded and drawn-out expressions.

'We do not have all night!' They shouted.

Unperturbed he dispatched the weather prediction for the night ahead, elicited laughter about the latest shenanigans of the sailors at the public taps and the slave lodge and, pretending to gossip, his act became dramatic, as if he was about to take them into his confidence and tell them a secret.

'Our German born Commander, Zaccharias Wagenaer, enjoys the finer things in life. He has seen the world, a wandering spirit with restless legs, lover of maps, publisher and served as a common soldier for the West Indian Company in Brazil.' Applause. 'You love him already? Be careful of the devil you do not know.' Laughter and murmuring. 'Commander restless legs grew tired of traveling and signed on with the VOC and went to Batavia where he worked as?' He cupped his ears waiting for them to guess. Not getting the answer he was hoping for, he folded his arms across his chest. He ducked at a grape heading for him.

'Wrong. All of you. A map designer. But our Commander does not only know about maps. He is a man of vision who married at 34 to an older, experienced, influential widow with coin.' He threw his hand in the air and raised his eyebrows, so long that it was curled outwards, like his beard. Laughter ensued. 'I agree. Some of us have such good luck with the ladies. Unlike our freemen.' He moved his body to avoid a flying object headed for him. 'Our late bloomer became junior merchant in Japan and now he is here with us, he is our esteemed Commander to be, and leader of our Colony.

'Hear, hear.' He waited for the clapping to stop.

'Hear those who have ears. Our next Commander is lurking in the wings and will rain on us his great knowledge, his great enthusiasm, his great passion for the art of ceramics and design.' He formed a fan with his hand above his lips, dispatching a secret in a mocking manner. 'Reliable forces informed me he is a man of many talents. A man accustomed to wealth and luxury of the East Indies. Good food. Good living. Will he be devastated if he discovered we had little food? How will he rain his knowledge, passion and great enthusiasm for maps and ceramics on the storms and naked natives when they burn down his farms, steal his cattle, and uproot his crops I ask with tears in my eyes.'

'What is he going to do about it?' Someone shouted.

'Exactly what you must ask him, good people of the Colony. Are you going to calm the seas and draw a map and hand of where you will hang all those stinking, lazy, daccha-smoking Hottentoos?' Clapping.